Under the Light of the Stars
by imsuchanut
Summary: They're frightfully beautifully together, like they're dancing. Each completes the other's move, taking down everything that crosses them with ease.


He slips on the ring just in time to avoid being seen. It's a bloody battle, that's what it is, with the spiders coming is from every angle, the arrows whizzing through the air, and the shouting pulling him in every direction. He's confused and scared and even after everything, part of him still longs for the safety and comfort of the Shire. Bilbo picks up his sword with ease (and wasn't _that_ quite a change from the old him) and prepares to fend off the next giant spider.

Then he sees _them_.

They're frightfully beautifully together, like they're dancing. Each completes the other's move, taking down everything that crosses them with ease. But separate, they're a flurry of green and metal, quickly destroying the spiders, weaving in between fellow warriors and dwarves, almost glowing. Bilbo didn't even notice the other elves until he nearly walked into one. But in comparison, even the legendary elven warriors paled to the pair.

The other elves seem used to the show, but fought much differently, much less gracefully. Bilbo watches as an elf steps out of the way to let the pair take down a spider, then quickly move on to the next. They're respected; almost holy. Bilbo is entranced by the pair, until the screech of a spider far too close wakes him up from the daze. He's lucky to be invisible as the blond elf, the male, slays the spider like it's nothing, while the red-head forces another dwarf into the circle.

Bilbo Baggins finally realizes what's happening.

The dwarves are surrounded by elves, all pointing their weapons at the group. For such unearthly creatures, they really are frightening. Not for the first time, he's glad for the ring. He isn't sure what they'd do with a Hobbit. Or what they're really doing with the dwarves. After all, weren't they just slaying the spiders side-by-side? Maybe Thorin's spiteful stories about elves weren't that far off after all.

But there's nothing he can do without revealing himself and being taken prisoner with the rest of his company. Bilbo is forced to watch as the dwarves are forced into a line and walked for what seems like forever, through the dark forest, which still carries a strange chill. While unfortunate, this does give Bilbo a chance to walk around, to learn what he can. He's no detective, not by a long shot, but within five minutes he's figured something out. And then rendered even more confused.

As far as he can tell, they're being taken to the palace of Mirkwood. Bilbo's heard plenty of stories about the woods, and its mysterious leader, Thranduil himself (the only good ones coming from Gandalf). He's no idea what the truth is or isn't, but for everyone's sake he hopes the stories are false. But honestly, Thorin's looking more right by the second. Either way, the rift between dwarves and elves is growing by the second. Thorin looks murderous and like he's about to strike the nearest elf. Bilbo can't really blame him.

The blond elf, he seems to be a prince, or leader of some kind. Bilbo only speaks a few words of their tongue, and the elves seem to prefer to only use the common tongue when shouting at the dwarves. The elf's partner, the red head flitters between giving commands, watching from the back, and staying by the blond's side. She appears to hold some kind of command too, but she doesn't appear to be royal. Respected, yes, but more like a military officer. Which is quite plausible, after seeing her fight earlier.

The pair: they had been so in sync, so melodious when fighting. Bilbo thought they were married, or at least together. There was no way that type of rhythm could exist without underlying feelings, no? Even Fili and Kili, siblings, couldn't work like that. So naturally, Bilbo assumed an attachment.

But walking back to the castle? It was like they couldn't _stand_ one another. Their correspondences were curt; they refrained from any sort of touch. There were no lingering glances, no indication of any connection. He figured out their names, though. The male was Legolas, the female was Tauriel. But he wouldn't have known that if it weren't for the other elleth in the troop. Thorin had told him that elves were cold, yes. But he couldn't wrap his mind around the pair. It was almost as if they were _trying_ to be as distant as possible. If this was how courted couples acted, or if the warriors were just that fierce, he didn't know what to think.

Elves really were an odd bunch.

Certainly odd enough to capture innocent people in the woods. The dwarves were taken down into the dungeons, leaving him with the task of breaking them out. The dungeons were strong; there was no way the dwarves would be able to escape by themselves. And the task is not an easy one—he can't find them anywhere. For a time, he wonders if they actually exist, if the cells were opened with elven magic instead. In the process of looking though, he has gotten completely and utterly lost. _This place is more like a labyrinth than a castle,_ he thinks. But it's getting late now (almost three in the morning), and he needs to find a place to sleep for the night, so his quest for keys has turned into one for a secluded place.

The corridor he's in now is silent, no doors, and he's pretty sure it's far away from any main halls or corridors. Though he's not the best with directions, so he's not really sure. But this hallway seems as good as any other (not to mention it's pretty dark, and has no spots for lanterns or candles) and Bilbo sees a small alcove down at the very end. It's hidden and looks quite small, so elves wouldn't be there. Not unless they wanted to be squished together, at any rate.

He pads over to the place wearily, eager to finally lie down for a few hours. But he isn't given the chance, because Bilbo is paralyzed upon viewing the inside of the place. Underneath the bright light of the stars, he sees that it's far from empty. The pair from earlier, they were…preoccupied. They obviously thought they were alone, because he was pretty sure they wouldn't be doing that in public, if the way they acted earlier was any indication. They were attached at the lips and pressed together in the tiny space. And he may not speak their language, but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear whatever the man is whispering. He can feel himself turn bright red, despite his invisibility.

Bilbo regained his senses (along with the energy to flee) and ran away the way he had come, frequently checking behind him for any sign of guards, or the pair he had just witnessed. But in doing so he had missed what was right in front of him, and promptly bashed into a pole.

But he wasn't the only one, as a tall elf in warrior's guard made the same mistake seconds later. And then proceeded to take a large gulp out of the goblet in his hand. Bilbo's ears perked, he could hear loud laughter in the distance, and the sound of metal clanging, and if he tried, he could smell the alcohol. This could only mean one thing: the elves were getting intoxicated. And what better time to relieve a guard of his keys. He stealthily made his way to what seemed to be the kitchens, and the center of a party. The place was dimly lit and extremely loud. His job was looking easier by the second.

It didn't take long for him to locate several sets of keys, and one very drunk, passed out guard. Bilbo couldn't believe his luck: weren't they worried about attackers? Their safety? Mirkwood must be stronger than they thought, if what looked like most of the guard was down in the kitchens. He stole a set as quietly as he could (he supposed this counted as burglary practice) and gently stepped away, holding they keys tightly so they wouldn't make a sound. _I've actually succeeded. Who knew it was so easy to break out of elvish prison_? It was only a matter of time now before they were free and away from the elves. One step closer to the Lonely Mountain.

As a boy, his mother used to tell him not to jinx things. Naturally, he didn't listen. Why should he? It was just superstition. But his mother's words came back to him that second, and regretted everything that had just gone through his head.

One second he was enjoying his victory, and the next the amorous pair was strolling through the doorway. Shocked, he tripped, wincing at the loud clanging sound the keys made as they hit the ground with him. The room was loud, yes, and the guards were tipsy. But they didn't forget their training, and very quickly the five guards around him had their eyes trained on the spot where he stood.

He started sweating under the scrutinizing gaze, and waited for the slice of a blade that would inevitably come. They were familiar with magic, what if they knew of the ring? What if they could see through it?

But seconds later, death still had not come, and the guards merely looked confused. He was saved by the source of his misery—a guard nudged another, gesturing to where the pair stood, unnaturally tense, nest to one another. Soon they began to chatter in hushed tones, and Bilbo was given a pretty good idea of the subject of their conversation. He wasn't the only one who knew something was with them, although he was probably the only one to know what.

Still, he thanked his stars for his good fortune, and hightailed it out of there. It took another half hour to make his way to the dungeons, but he still managed it without being caught. Bilbo freed all the dwarves as quietly as possible, although they didn't seem to understand the notion of silence. Honestly, he should've expected that from them. Stealth wasn't really their thing; that's why _he_ was the burglar.

The group continued their quest to the mountain, and Bilbo didn't give the day much thought until years later. Frodo was in his care now, and loved to hear stories, despite being a full-grown Hobbit.

"Now, there was this elf-prince named Legolas, and a captain named Tauriel…." Frodo, of course, found the situation horrible as a young Halfling. Kissing? How absolutely disgusting. After several years, he found it amusing—at Bilbo's expense. Awkwardness was a trait they both shared, and while envious of Bilbo's adventures, he was glad it was Bilbo, and not him in that particular situation. But it was not of great importance to either of them, just another page for the book Bilbo was writing. And very soon, Frodo forgot all about the story.

Until, that is, a certain man refreshed the memory.

It's a dark, cold night, and Frodo knows he should be sleeping. Being tired will only make the following day harder. But something is keeping him up, and he needs to get it out. It's Legolas's turn to watch, and at this point, everyone is asleep.

It's also the first time Frodo really looks at the elf. At first glance, he's unearthly under the light of the stars; he is, after all, an elf. No man is constantly full of energy, has unbelievable aim, or is immortal. The elf appears unbreakable to strangers, a strong, unyielding force. But Frodo has been travelling with him for a few weeks now. Legolas seems tired on the inside. Underneath all the courage and resilience, something about the man is broken. Frodo is afraid to ask what.

Instead, he settles on the question that's been pressing on his mind. He instantly recognized the elf's name, although it took quirk of Bilbo's eyebrows back at Rivendell to remember why. And Frodo was a curious elf, who always had to know the end to every story. Unfortunately, he had never been alone with the elf up until this point, and he didn't want to broach the subject with the other members of the Fellowship present. "Legolas?" The elf turns to him slowly, fixing him with a steady gaze.

"You should be asleep, Frodo. Tomorrow will not be easy."

"I know, it's just…I had to ask you something." Legolas does not reply, instead continuing his unnerving gaze, and Frodo takes that as his cue to go on. "Whatever happened to you and…Tauriel? That was her name, right?"

Legolas sighed, and looks up at the stars with a strange expression on his face. It was odd to see him like this, with anything other than the grim expression he normally war. "My wife is at home in Mirkwood. She wanted to come on this trip, and I wished for her presence. But my father required her to stay back and protect the kingdom. Her skill in battle is far greater than mine, I'm afraid." There was an uneasy silence, as Frodo digested this new information. Then Legolas spoke again. "Frodo, how do you know of Tauriel? I have never mentioned her to you, nor any other member of the company. Did Bilbo tell you this?"

Frodo shifted uneasily in his blankets. "Sort of…." Legolas raised his eyebrows. The answer was uncomfortable, but Legolas's gaze told him that the elf would know if he was lying. That left no option but the truth. "Well, when Bilbo was in Mirkwood with the dwarves, you know, when you captured them," Frodo could just barely detect a hint of regret on the man's face. "he…well…saw you two."

Legolas's brow creased. "Saw us? I do not remember him there."

There was no turning back from the conversation now. Frodo was never a good liar. "Well, you see, he used the ring to try and break the dwarves out. And while he was in there he…saw." Legolas gave no sign of comprehension, and Frodo knew he would have to continue. "He was wandering around and he saw you two at night. In a hallway." Realization dawned across Legolas's face, with a splash of bright red that was quickly covering his skin. Frodo almost wanted to laugh—he hadn't known it was possible for elves to blush.

"I hadn't realized he'd seen—"

"Well he had the ring on, and he pretty much ran out after seeing that." Tense silence filled the air, as the red slowly subsided from Legolas's face.

"You haven't…told anyone, have you Frodo?" Legolas rubbed the back of his neck, and Frodo felt as uncomfortable as the elf.

"No, not a soul."

"Good. Elves, you know…we aren't very…public about courting. And I assure you, Tauriel and I hadn't intended to be seen."

Frodo gave a shaky chuckle. "I figured that." The man was still as red as a tomato. "So, why haven't you told anyone about Tauriel?" The red appeared again. "You know, about you having a wife?"

Legolas took a deep breath and stared up at the stars again. "It is easier not to. You long for the Shire, I…long for her. And someday, we shall be reunited. But until then…" He sat up again and stared at the horizon. "Go to bed, Frodo. Tomorrow will be long."

After making sure the young Hobbit was fast asleep, Legolas turned back to the stars with a sad smile on his face. Far away as she may be, they were both looking at the same stars.


End file.
